Brevity of Love
by Yugure
Summary: Is a monotonous life better than no life at all? Zelgadis angsts. AU


**Title:** Brevity of Love

**Author:** Yugure

**Rated:** R

**Genre:** Horror/Drama

**Author Notes:** The title is a misnomer alluded to the song "Gravity of Love" by Enigma. As a warning, this story contains alcohol consumption, abuse, and sexual intimacy.

* * *

**Brevity of Love**

He hated his life. He really did. He despised the same monotony, the same droll sequence of events that played out every day. Wake up, go to classes, come home, go to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

So it was nights like these, when the next morning promised time allotted for sleep and not school, that Zelgadis went out on the town. Not that the weekend was any more interesting. Go to bars, get drunk, stagger home to his empty apartment, pass out on the couch. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

You couldn't even really call what he had a "life". More like a boring existence punctuated occasionally by significant events, such as the day he moved out of his screwed up family's home. Never more would Zelgadis have to deal with listening to his parents' screaming, the dull sound of fist connecting with face, the harsh sound of breaking glass. Doors slamming, siblings crying, a weeping mother – all cut short by the engine roaring to life in the driveway. But Father would be back. He always came back. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

So Zelgadis got out. As soon as he graduated high school, he booked a flight to somewhere far the hell away. He rented an apartment, enrolled in the local community college, and hoped his life would take a turn for the better.

It had not.

Zelgadis pushed his way into his favorite hangout. On Friday nights it was always jam-packed, popular equally for the booze and the bands. There was barely any elbowroom, only about enough to breathe and raise your glass. Taking a seat at the sticky, slimy bar, Zelgadis waved down one of the bartenders.

"Tequila, please." The polite request, absurd coming from anyone else, especially in a place like this, simply put a smile on the bartender's face.

"Same ole' thing, Zelgadis? Don't you ever tire of it?" Wendy asked, throwing her strawberry blonde hair out of her face.

"No," Zelgadis replied. _Yes,_ he thought. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Wendy grinned and handed her favorite customer his drink. She moved on to the other end of the bar. Zelgadis pushed his lime to the bottom of his drink and took a long swallow. The music of the band assaulted his ears, the bass trembling his bones and nearly jarring the teeth from his jaw. It wasn't really his kind of music. He preferred something of the classical persuasion. But the hard rock helped to clear his mind of everything in his life, as did the alcohol.

Time ticked on. Seconds passed into minutes, minutes into what seemed like hours but were only mere moments. Zelgadis quickly downed a second and third tequila, hoping to drink himself into oblivion. He soon lost track of how many drinks he had. _A few more should do it,_ he thought, feeling quite fuzzy.

An elbow dug sharply into Zelgadis's left side. Conscious enough to react with anger, Zelgadis narrowed his eyes and turned to his antagonist, ready to snap.

"Oh, sorry," a sultry female voice spoke into his nearly deafened ear. Zelgadis felt the anger slipping away from his face and all coherent thought vanish from his mind.

She was stunning. She was beauty incarnate. She wasn't very tall, but her diminutive stature only seemed to heighten her strength. Hair the color of exposed blood fell in waves around a heart-shaped face, framing dark ruby eyes and a pert candy-apple red mouth. A black choker with 5 yen coin on it encircled her pale, slender neck. She wore a stark white peasant blouse, the folds gathering at her wrists and trailing down into thin air. A black leather bodice, laced up the front and the sides, enhanced her small yet still pleasant bust, as Zelgadis noticed with blushing alarm. A long black skirt fell in much the same way as her hair, occasionally swept aside to reveal thigh-high slits in the sides.

Zelgadis was speechless. The Aphrodite before him gave him a quirky smile and held out her perfectly manicured hand.

"Lina. And you are?"

The red lacquered nails wavered in Zelgadis's vision. He couldn't quite focus anymore. He cursed the tequilas he had forced himself to drink.

"Zel… Zelgadis," he managed, stumbling over his own name. He hated himself at that moment, more so than he ever had. Finally, a break in the monotony: A beautiful woman approaching him with something resembling interest. And yet he couldn't even keep two words strung together in his mind.

"Aren't you the articulate one?" Lina teased, batting long black lashes. Zelgadis smiled and was marveled: it was the first time he had smiled in years.

"Just a bit," he replied. Lina laughed; a hearty sound that seemed ages older than the body that contained it. Ageless, immortal: these words Zelgadis felt compelled to use.

"Hey, I'm a bit tired of this old scene. How about you and I hit the road?" Lina helped Zelgadis to his feet. She acted as though she hadn't had a drink in years – all steady feet, steady hands, steady gaze.

"Sure," Zelgadis replied. After paying, he allowed Lina to lead him out of the bar. He stumbled more times than he cared to remember, but he wouldn't remember in the morning anyway. Together they walked down the street, taking in the nightlife. Zelgadis wondered were Lina was taking him; after all, his own apartment was in the opposite direction and he was helpless to follow the beautiful enigma.

He was in love. Okay, maybe it was the five or eight tequilas talking, but it sure felt like love. Zelgadis never had been popular with the women. Sure, he was handsome, but as for social graces, he had none. No tact, all insensitive truth. Drunk, he seemed to be scoring more points.

No more lather, rinse, repeat for him. Whoever this goddess was, Zelgadis felt, she was going to take good care of him. Yes, so very good care…

Zelgadis didn't remember ending up in the bed, but in one blinding moment of cognition, he saw the sparse mattress, the peeling walls, the rundown carpet. Hands everywhere. Skin against skin, lips against lips, breath crawling oh so slowly against his body.

Too drunk to care, Zelgadis gave himself up willing. No more lather, rinse, repeat. No more. No more. _A new start_, Zelgadis thought. _New… new me… new life…_

He didn't even notice when the blade slide across his wrists, ripping open his veins and pouring his life across the moth-eaten blankets. He didn't even notice Lina get up from the bed and move away, still fully clothed. He didn't notice the shadows in her eyes, didn't notice her rifling through his pockets and pulling out his wallet. He didn't notice anything anymore.

_At least… _His dying thought echoed in his brain. _At least an end to the monotony._

Lina quickly closed the door to the room, pocketing the newly acquired wallet. To her, it was just another job. Just another luckless victim. Just another day in her monotonous life.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.


End file.
